Holigay Oneshots xx One Direction
by feelsforbreakfast
Summary: Various holiday themed fluff for your enjoyment, full of more sweaters, hot chocolate, and snowy kisses than you could probably ever want. (mostly larry, but there's a ziall, narry, and zarry in there too)
1. Baby It's Cold Outside

**Hey guys, sorry I've been MIA, its a total pain in the ass to post on here, so I've been using tumblr and AO3 a lot more. But here I am! Posting my holiday oneshots so you have something to do after you open all of your lovely presents (:**

**Baby It's Cold Outside - Larry**

Harry spots Louis on the corner of the street, a paper bag covered bottle in his hands and snowflakes falling in white clumps onto his bright right hat. They aren't the swirling wind blown shards that sometimes whip through the atmosphere, but thick wads of snow that drift down onto the street, muting the night to a whisper and resting thick on Harry's windshield.

Louis is standing in the glow of the streetlight and it paints him a strange kind of orange, dusky flakes floating slowly around him. It's gone quiet on the street, a few cars carefully winding through the storm, but from inside the cabin it feels like its only them, Harry waiting for the light to change and Louis with his lips to the bottle.

The light goes green and Harry presses on the gas, sliding through the intersection and pulling into the Walgreens parking lot, the snow making his tires slip just the tiniest bit as he turns into a parking space, barely inside the yellow lines. He doesn't bother turning the car off, just puts it in park and heads out into the cold.

He spots Louis almost immediately as he does a little half jog across the lot, the pom pom on his hat bouncing a bit with every stride.

"Watch the ice!" Harry calls, shoving his hands into his pockets and waiting for Louis to reach him.

"I am!" Louis returns, waving the champagne (because for some reason Louis has decided that cheap champagne is his favorite thing in the world) and closing the distance between them, smashing his lips to Harry's before he can say anything. His mouth is cold and slick with alcohol and Harry smiles against it before Louis pulls back, sliding a bare hand into Harry's pocket. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Harry replies, pressing another quick kiss to Louis' mouth. "Everything alright?"

The other boy nods, eyes crinkled and fond, snowy crystals sticking in his eyelashes. "It is now."

Harry smiles, accepting the answer for the moment. Louis does this a lot, acting like everything is perfect until he is physically incapable of keeping himself together. Though he was completely ridiculous playing Danny Zuko in Grease, Harry is pretty sure he's the best actor he knows. "C'mon. I'm freezing my balls off."

"God forbid that happens." Louis replies, bopping his nose quickly against Harry's and scurrying over to the passenger side, throwing himself inside. Harry follows him in with an amused roll of his eyes, holding his hands over the heating vents as _Baby It's Cold Outside_ plays over the radio.

"Fucking love this song." Louis says, taking a dainty sip out of his bottle, the green top poking out of the bag he's thrust it in. "Totally classic."

Harry pulls out into the street, trying to suppress a smile as Louis starts to hum along, staring out into the night like if he refuses to acknowledge that he's doing it then maybe Harry won't notice. Louis has a lovely singing voice, its pretty and soft but also like he's pouring everything he has into the sounds, and Harry doesn't think he'll ever be able to hear it enough.

Harry gives him a pointed look at the next red light, starting purposefully in with his bass voice, taking the women's part an octave down. "I ought to say no no no sir..." The man on the recording takes the other part, Louis' hum cutting underneath it.

He raises his voice, reaching out to jab Louis in the arm. "At least I'm gonna say that I tried."

Louis just laughs in response, hitting Harry back in way that's probably not safe while they're driving down a snowy road, even a small suburban one.

Harry tries to increase his annoyance factor, singing louder so his voice fills the car. "I really can't stay!"

Louis gives him a look, a grin breaking across his face as he joins him for the final line. "BABY ITS COLD OUTSIDE."

He breaks into giggles as Harry rolls his eyes, the song dissolving into an instrumental. "That was a yell. You did not sing, you yelled."

Louis shrugs, sassing him from the passenger seat.

"You're the worst person ever." Harry pouts as the next verse starts up, avoiding eye contact so he'll be able to keep from smiling. "I've got a boyfriend who played the lead in the musical and he won't even sing cheesy christmas duets with me."

"You love me." Louis leans over, pressing the top of his bottle to Harry's lips, nearly spilling liquid everywhere.

Harry splutters, pushing the rim away from his mouth. "What are you even doing?"

"Apologizing with alcohol." Louis replies, taking a prim sip.

Harry glares over at him. "I liked it better when you were apologizing with bjs."

Louis raises his eyebrows. "Like you could drive while I sucked you off."

Harry tries his best to look affronted, trying not to imagine too vividly what would surely end up with the car in a ditch. "This could all be avoided if you would sing with me."

Louis rolls his eyes, reaching over to rest his hand on Harry's thigh like he sometimes does when he thinks Harry isn't paying quite enough attention to the road. It doesn't help him pay all that much attention to driving, but he doesn't really feel like telling Louis that. "How can you do this thing to me?" Louis sings, softly at first and then gaining confidence.

"There's bound to be talk tomorrow." Harry replies, threading his fingers through Louis', leaving his left hand on the wheel.

"Think of my lifelong sorrow..." Louis pleads, going typical overdramatic performing kid on him, eyes getting bright as he pulls his eyebrows high.

"I hate it when you pull show choir facials on me." Harry grumbles, missing his next line.

"IF YOU GOT PNEUMONIA AND DIED." Louis sing songs in response, his expression falling into something more genuine as he watches Harry navigate into the parking lot of his building.

"I really can't stay..." Harry sings as he pulls into the space, his front bumper hitting up against the concrete stopper. He puts his hand on his keys but doesn't take them out, determined not to miss the final lines.

"Get over that hold out..." Louis replies, taking one last gulp of his drink and stashing it in the back where Harry can only pray it doesn't tip, turning back to the front for the last line.

"Oh baby its cooold outsiiiiide!" Louis takes the high harmony, his voice stretching up to the high note while Harry takes the lower, their voices tangling together as the song ends.

"I love hearing you sing." Harry says as he turns off the car, stepping out into the snowy night, his converse sinking into the two inches that have fallen since the plow last came through.

"I love you." Louis replies, smirking over at Harry, his eye crinkling up at the sides.

Harry sticks his keys in his pocket, sloughing through the snow towards Louis and threading their fingers together as they head towards the doorway. They stomp the snow off their shoes on the industrial carpet, the hallway of Harry's apartment complex smelling like baked goods instead of wet cardboard for once, the rosy wall lights casting them in a soft glow.

Harry sticks his key in the lock, pushing into their kitchen where Gemma is making a cake from scratch, flour speckling her apron white. She waves her batter covered spoon at them when they enter, looking surprisingly friendly. (Harry suspects that might be Louis, he often suspects Gemma likes his boyfriend better than she likes him.) "Have you seen the mixer?"

Harry shakes his head, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the row of hooks, ignoring Louis' fond eyeroll when he insists on helping him out of his. "Not since you made brownies."

"A real help you are." She replies, but there's no real venom there. "What's up with you, Lou?"

Louis shrugs, heading over to dip his finger into the bowl, coming up with a pinkie covered in cake batter. "Nothing much. Parents, you know."

She nods sympathetically, giving him a quick hug from behind on her way to the sink. They've both gone through their fair share of divorce, its not exactly a foreign subject to any of them. "I know."

He shrugs, sticking the pinkie in his mouth. Harry does not think filthy thoughts. "Not much you can do about it."

"Still sucks." She replies, washing out the cup measures. "Want me to bring you guys cookies when they're done?"

"You're being nice and it's freaking me out." Harry jokes, though if he's honest Gemma is a great sister, as sisters go, she generally shares her baked goods and has only once brought up the time Harry put her lipstick on, but he has to keep up some appearance of sibling rivalry.

"Oh stop it, loser. You know I don't totally hate you."

Harry laughs, swooping in to give her a completely melodramatic kiss on the cheek. "How could you?" He asks as he pulls Louis out of the kitchen and to his broom closet of a bedroom, flicking on the light and heading for the only sitting space in his mess of a room. He has to shove some clothes on the floor, but he makes himself a space on the bed, crossing his legs as Louis follows behind him.

"I like your room, it makes mine look clean." Louis remarks as he shuts the door, stepping over a guitar and a stack of magazines that look like they're about to topple.

"Our rooms are equally messy, mine is just more condensed." Harry replies, smiling as Louis makes his way over to the bed, curling into Harry's covers without a second thought.

"Want to talk or watch tellie?" Harry asks, curling a hand into Louis' feathery fringe, because this is not the first time this has happened and he knows the drill by now. He thinks this might be one of the things he loves most about Louis, the familiarity that rests in every movement. Louis surprises him too, with the strength of his love and how caring he is and the soft noises that fall from his mouth when Harry kisses him, but he likes the way they fall into each other without having to think about it now. He knows at one point he existed without Louis but he's not sure he remembers how anymore.

"Can we just sleep?"

Harry smiles, crawling over Louis and pushing through piles of dirty clothes to get to the light, switching it off so the only illumination in the room are the numbers of Harry's alarm clock, the orange streetlight filtering through the tiny window by his bed, and the yellow warmth creeping under the door. He peels his jeans off, keeping his warm socks on as he curls up with Louis, pulling the covers over their heads.

"Your mom won't mind you staying over, right?" Harry asks, feeling for Louis in the dark and pulling him close. It's kindof innocent really, the two of them curled in the middle of Harry's twin bed, arms and legs tangled for comfort and warmth, breathing into each other's mouths. Louis still smells a little like champagne, but he also smells like cologne and shampoo and that _Louis _smell that Harry wishes he could write into songs but can't.

"Probably won't even notice I'm gone." Harry gives him a disapproving look, and Louis seems to sense it even in the dark. "I left her a note, don't get all worried at me."

"I can't help it." Harry replies, nudging his nose against Louis' in the dark.

"I know. I like that you worry."

And that makes something in Harry's heart twist because Louis hates it when people care. Because Louis is all about fixing everything for everyone and sometimes he forgets to fix himself. Sometimes, when they fight and Harry feels awful and stupid he rests in the knowledge that Louis needs him, even though he doesn't always know it. Louis Tomlinson can care for the entire world, and Harry can care for Louis.

"Somebody has to."

Louis lets out a soft sigh that sounds like contentment, saying after a long moment. "Do you ever wonder where we'd be if we hadn't met? Do you think someone else would be in your bed?"

Harry thinks on it, because he honestly doesn't know. There were always other boys, but somehow he never wanted them like he wanted Louis. He wonders if maybe he would have thought that was love when he kissed them, if he could have ever told them his secrets, if he could have cared. "I don't know. Maybe I'd have met someone." He begins slowly, and then, as the silence draws out. "I would have missed you."

"Do you think you could ever find someone you could love like you love me?" Louis asks, his hands creeping up to curl around Harry's jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his lips after the last word.

"I don't think so." Harry says, because the soft voice in his ear when he's scared is Louis and when he pictures himself moving out it's with Louis and his entire life is Louis and he can't picture anyone else fitting into the Louis shaped place in his heart.

Louis nods shortly. "I don't think so either."

There are a million stupid things to say running through his mind but he's gotten all jumbled up inside and all he can do is hold Louis close and press kisses to his shoulder because he loves him.

But there are no I Love Yous, no fierce declarations of love. They don't fuck each other or kiss until their lips hurt.

They fall asleep together, tangled in each other's arms, the snow outside covering the world in a blanket of white.


	2. A Little Bit Beautiful

**A Little Bit Beautiful - Zarry**

Harry pulls Zayn down the beach, his boots sticking in the snow sprinkled sand. It's freezing cold, the tiny buzz of champagne in Harry's blood not enough to keep him warm. The heavy jacket and scarf he's got pulled high up his chin nearly do the job, but his nose is still freezing. Zayn doesn't look much warmer, his jawline prominent as he clenches his teeth, following Harry down close to the shoreline.

They're cutting it a bit close, but they've managed to make it before sunrise, the sky a faint violet as Harry spreads the picnic blanket out on the sand.

"I honestly don't know why I let you talk me into these things." Zayn gripes as Harry smoothes out the corners, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, chin tucked into his collar.

"Because I'm pretty." Harry replies, sitting and pulling Zayn down with him.

"Good thing too." Zayn mutters, but Harry doesn't miss the way he melts into Harry's arms.

"I've got cocoa." He says, digging in his bag and pulling out the blue metal thermos, trying in vain to unscrew the cap with mittened fingers.

It's a solid forty five seconds before Zayn takes pity on him, pulling his gloves off and opening the thing, handing the cup to Harry. "Hold steady, I'll pour."

Harry nods, doing as he's told as Zayn sloshes the liquid in. "Careful." He murmurs, snapping the thermos shut as Harry raises the hot chocolate to his lips.

"Don't mother me, dickface." Harry sticks out his tongue before taking a generous gulp, making a face at the temperature.

"Charming." Is Zayn's only reply as he takes the cup from Harry's mittened fingers, raising it to his lips and taking a tentative sip. Harry watches him, the way his brow furrows with mild confusion, then falls with a sort of tired acceptance. "You've spiked it haven't you. What is this? Baileys?"

Harry nods enthusiastically, more than a little bit please with himself. "Yep!"

"You're just the epitome of class, aren't you Harry Styles." Zayn says dryly, taking another quick sip.

"I really am." Harry agrees, leaning in to brush his nose against Zayn's cheek. He knows he's gone completely pink, the wind and chill making all the blood rush to his face, turning his lips nearly purple and his cheeks rosy, but the only evidence that Zayn is even outside is that he's wearing a jacket, his trapper hat pulled low over his hair. "I really dislike that you're able to look hot when its this cold out."

"Well I really dislike that its cold out." Zayn replies, but Harry doesn't miss the way the side of his mouth twitches upward at the comment.

"You're the one who said they wanted to see the sunrise." Harry replies, snuggling up against Zayn's side.

"That was a theoretical thing. Like _oh wow I'd love to travel to Africa_ or _God I'd just love to meet Britney Spears_ not like _yeah let's go and do that right fucking now_." Zayn snips, taking a disgruntled sip of cocoa.

"Don't be like that." Harry says, a knowing glint in his eyes. If he was going to make a list of Zayn's top three favorite activities, they would probably be complaining, getting high, and then complaining about it later. It's nothing personal, Zayn is just a little bit of diva. Harry doesn't mind so much, one of his favorite activities is coaxing a genuine smile out of him.

The sky is brightening fast, soft salmon pinks streaking into the lavender sky, swaths of yellow clouds hanging low on the horizon like spun sugar. "Tell me that's not the most beautiful thing you've ever seen."

"It's not the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He replies, unable to keep the self satisfied grin off his face. Zayn is easily one of the most deliberately difficult people Harry has ever met.

"Zayn." Harry says, glaring at him with a large share of murderous venom.

"It's you." Zayn reaches over, squeezing Harry's hand in his. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

There's a brief pause where they both just stare at each other, before Zayn doubles over laughing, nearly upending the nearly empty cup of cocoa. "I'm sorry! I tried to be romantic, I tried!

Harry delivers a smack to his head with a begrudging grin. "YOU DIDN'T EVEN TRY AT ALL."

Zayn looks back up at him. "I almost tried. Maybe a little."

Harry leans down, kissing him on the temple. "I appreciate the non effort."

Zayn smirks, letting Harry lean against his chest as they stare at the sky, the colors blending together, the water reflecting them back up like a slithering mirror. It really is one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, besides maybe snowy mornings, firelight, and how Zayn looks when he's hovering on the edge of sleep.

He can feel Zayn shift behind him, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and sticking it into his mouth, closing his lips firmly around the paper. Harry waits for the the familiar click of a lighter, the sound of contentment he makes when he takes that first drag, the softest little sigh like something tight in his chest is loosening. It's the same sound he made the first time Harry kissed him.

Zayn's arm curls around his waist, tucking underneath his arm and keeping him close, their heads titled against each other as the waves crash in the background. It's a strange clash of seasons, sitting in the sand in their winter clothing, the frigid water slapping the shore.

The sun has nearly broken away from the horizon when Harry looks up at Zayn, the unlit fag still hanging from his mouth. "Not going to light up?"

Zayn shrugs, taking the cigarette from his lips and twirling it in his fingers. "You hate the smell of smoke." He replies, as if that should be obvious.

"I don't mind that much." Harry answers, even though he really does, his head tucked in the warm place right under Zayn's chin.

"Yes you do." Zayn replies, placing their knit covered palms over each other.

Harry just nods. He hates smoking, really really hates it, but he honestly can't picture Zayn without it. He was smoking the first time they met, leaning up against the wall and puffing smoke rings like some ad for big tobacco. He smoked in his bed after the first time they fucked, taking short drags like the husbands in old television shows before they cared about things like lung cancer and fire hazards. He's learned to like it in some strange way, how Zayn always has a pack in his back pocket, how his hair smells the tiniest bit like smoke even after he washes it.

"I want to sleep." Harry says finally, the long hours taking their toll. They're going on twenty four hours without rest and he's starting to feel the exhaustion in his bones.

"Home?" Zayn asks, and he doesn't have to clarify that they're sleeping the day away together. Either Zayn's mum will let them in with an exasperated grin and they'll head up the stairs and collapse into his bed, or they'll sneak into Harry's house, Gemma rolling her eyes when they pass out on the couch in the family room.

Harry nods, pulling himself up and heading back towards the parking lot, thermos clutched in his numb hands. Zayn follows, the blanket lumped in his arms. Harry digs into his pocket for his keys, smashing the unlock button multiple times before his shitty maroon mazda awakens with a chirp.

Zayn falls into the passenger seat, pulling the blanket around him with one last look at the sunrise, watching as the colors slowly start to fade. "It really is kind of beautiful, isn't it." He observes, one of his rare true smiles crawling across his face. There's no sarcasm there, no self satisfaction, just a soft happiness that looks good on him.

"That's what I was trying to tell you, stupid." Harry replies, twisting the keys so the car croaks to life, the heater spitting out cold air.

"I know." He rubs his hands together, breathing onto his fingers, breath spiraling out of his mouth like cigarette smoke. "You're beautiful too. I know like, I'm really bad at that stuff but-"

Harry cuts him off, fiddling with the dial of the radio. "I know, Zayn."

Zayn shakes his head. "I love you."

Harry nods. "I know." And then, "I love you too."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." Zayn says quietly, looking like he sometimes does when he doesn't think Harry's looking, something just this side of broken. "I guess basically what I'm saying is that I'm pretty sure you're supposed to make a New Years Resolution and mine is that I want to be better at this. Better at being there for you. Less, well, you know."

Harry looks over at him, a funny look on his face. "You're perfect for me, Zayn."

The tiniest blush stains his cheeks as the car starts to warm up, quiet guitar strums leaking from the radio. "I'm sorry I'm a twat."

Harry thinks about disputing it, but settles on leaning over the console to give Zayn a quick kiss on the cheek. "I love you, alright?" He shakes his head in fond exasperation, putting the car into reverse. "I thought you knew that."

Zayn looks down at his lap. "I do."

Harry nods. "Good."

Its muttered, barely audible over the rumble of the engine. "Happy New Year."

Harry reaches over to grab Zayn's hand, turning onto the road in the direction of home. "Happy New Year."


	3. On My Way To You

**On My Way To You - Larry**

Harry is trying not to worry. He's been trying not to worry ever since Louis' train came into the station and Louis didn't. He knows he probably just got delayed, hung up in the holiday bustle, but it's already 11:30 and he promised he'd back by Christmas. It's inconsequential really, its just a holiday and one based off of religious traditions neither of them have believed in for a long time, but damnit Harry doesn't want all that many things but he wants Christmas with Louis.

He looks sullenly at his phone, trying for the third time to send a text he knows wont send from underground.

Harry 11:32

You on your way love?

An error message shows up and he's really not all that surprised. He's wearing a thick white sweater with his trench coat over it, a soft teal scarf looped tightly around his neck, but he's still cold. Somehow he forgot to grab a hat and he's pretty sure his ears are mere minutes from freezing off of his head. The station is drafty and he's been down there for close to a half an hour already, rocking onto his toes and then back down again.

A train wheezes into the station, going the wrong direction to hold Louis in its metal belly. He's tired, so tired, and all he wants is to warm himself up in Louis' arms, hold Louis' hand as they walk back to their flat, taste Louis' lips against his. When he thinks about it, it's all he ever really wants.

Bundled up commuters rush past him, some weighed down with brightly wrapped packages and bags bulging with last minute purchases. He's given up on trying to find Louis' face in the crowd, instead looking down at his slush covered converse, scuffing them against the concrete. He knows Louis would never intentionally abandon him here, but what if he forgot? What if something more important came up? What if he'd already missed the last train, leaving Harry to stand here alone all night?

He's pretty sure he'd wait all night too, until the station went quiet and his fingers froze, because it would feel less like giving up than going back to the empty apartment. He takes a small sip of the decaf coffee he brought to warm himself up, the liquid gone lukewarm in his hands. He's beginning to wish he'd gotten something with a bit of caffeine as his eyelids begin to droop, cold limbs heavy with exhaustion.

He looks up through his messy fringe as the next train pulls in, screeching to a stop, the doors coming open with a sigh as the train settles on the tracks. He can feel his heart hop into his throat, knowing even as his stomach twists into knots that this shouldn't matter than much to him, but it still does.

People begin to spill out of the train cars, eyes locked on the ground as they head towards their destinations. A low feeling of hopelessness descends over him, about to swallow him up just as he sees a familiar figure hop down from the step.

Harry's mouth falls into a grin, happiness blooming in his chest as Louis scans the crowd for him, his hair wild, coat part way zipped, bag thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. He raises his hand in a half wave, wondering if he looks as lovestruck as he feels. It's not just that Louis is possibly the most beautiful person he's ever met, but the way he has a smile that's just for Harry, a glint in his eyes thats just for them.

Harry can see the shift as Louis spots him, that familiar softness falling over his features before he breaks into a grin, rushing towards him. He careens into Harry's arms, looping his arms around his neck so Harry can spin him clumsily around.

They make it nearly a rotation and a half before Harry sets him down, hands coming to rest on his torso. He finds he doesn't mind the lateness anymore, that the wait was most definitely worth it. Louis presses a quick apologetic kiss to his cold lips. "I missed my train."

Harry nods. "I figured."

Louis looks up at him with wide blue eyes. "You got my text though, right?"

Harry shakes his head, leaning down so he can feel Louis' breath on his chin, the tickle of his fringe on his forehead. "No service down here."

"You thought I forgot about you, didn't you?" He asks, reaching up to run a tender hand down Harry's cheek. "You're so cold, how long have you been waiting?"

Harry shrugs, nudging his cheek further into Louis' touch. "It hasn't been too long."

Louis goes up on his tip toes, kissing him a little longer this time, his eyelashes fluttering closed with the contact. "You're a terrible liar."

Harry smiles, crushing Louis just a little closer to his chest. "It's okay."

Louis nods, pushing further into Harry's embrace so his arms are tight around his waist, chin tucked into his shoulder. "Take me home, Hazza."

Harry nods, pressing his nose against Louis' hair. "Merry Christmas, Lou."

"_I love you_." The words are mumbled, and for a moment Harry isn't even sure he's heard them.

"Lou?" He asks, peering down at the boy pressed to his front. Louis is most certainly an affectionate person, all about hand holding and kissing and never ever keeping his hands to himself but he's always had a thing about I love yous. I love you is a promise, he'd said once, the kind you have to keep. They aren't things you can just throw at everyone you meet, you have to save them for when your heart wants to burst.

"You heard me." He repeats, eyes closed, holding on to Harry like he's never really planning to let go. "I love you." It's stronger the second time he says it.

Harry smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of Louis' head. "I love you too."


	4. You Kiss How Being In Love Feels

**You Kiss How Being In Love Feels - Ziall**

It feels a little bit like the snow is about to eat Niall up, sinking through the thick gray wool of his mittens and making a damp home in his boots. They've been out in the park for hours at this point, Harry and Louis on their third lopsided snowman as Liam helps Zayn with the snow fort. Surprisingly few snowballs have been thrown, though Louis managed to nail them all the in the head once or twice.

The sun has dipped behind the copse of trees at the far edge of the park and he can feel the cold start to seep into his bones despite being wrapped up in about seven layers of clothing. Harry and Louis appear to be on their way to becoming snow monsters and Niall isn't sure they're ever going to come back inside, and Liam still seems to be operating at full capacity, miming something about hair and snowmen to the other two. He looks around for Zayn, finding him only from by the sound of his voice, sullen and thickly accented. "M'cold."

Zayn's standing behind him, face tucked halfway into his scarf, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Niall lets out a soft laugh at his expression, a pinched face hovering somewhere between annoyance and despair.

"You're such a drama queen, mate." He says with a grin.

Zayn just grunts his displeasure. "Cold."

Niall shakes his head in amusement before calling out to the rest of the group. "Hey guys! Zayn and I are heading for hot chocolate!" He almost thinks they're going to ignore him, much too enthralled in stabbing sticks into their snowman victim's head, but then Liam turns to give them a wave so he figures they're free to go.

"Come on whiney-pants." Niall says, threading his arm through Zayn's and tugging him through the snow and onto the salty pavement.

"I think our friends are mutants. I'm freezing my fucking bollocks off and they want more snowmen." Zayn says, giving his head a fond shake.

"I could easily see Louis turning into a Christmas elf." Niall replies, causing a tired grin to break across Zayn's face. "They'll be in soon enough, I don't expect Harry'll stay warm for much longer."

"They're a bit like kittens." Zayn observes as they enter the cozy starbucks on the corner. It's almost painfully warm after the hours of snowy cold, the smell of peppermint and coffee wreathing their chilled bodies. "Spastic for hours until they crash."

"Well what are you then?" Asks Niall, poking him in the side with a laugh.

"Eagle." He deadpans, only a tiny glimmer in his eyes to indicate that he's joking. Niall remembers back when they first met, when Zayn wouldn't have even considered making any kind of joke, when he wouldn't have caught the playful gleam at all. He still can't figure out if he pulled Zayn out of his shell or if Zayn pulled him in.

Niall gives a soft laugh, shoving Zayn so hard he nearly collides with a table. "If only everyone knew how much of a dork you are."

Zayn hip checks him. "I'm not a dork."

Niall just smiles, cheeks pink from the wind and the cold, and certainly not because he's blushing. "You are and you know it."

Zayn shrugs haughtily, smirking in that infuriatingly attractive way he has. "You go find us a table, I'll get our drinks." Niall nods, purposefully knocking Zayn with his shoulder as he passes, earning himself a smack on the head. "See if I get you anything!" He calls from his place in line, the laughter in his voice completely ruining the effect.

The place is pretty crowded, teenage girls, couples, and business people alike clumped around the tables and sprawled in armchairs. There's soft acoustic music playing the background, but he can't hear anything more than the strumming of guitars over the clatter of dishware and the murmur of conversation. Just when he's about to give up on his search for a place to sit, he spies a small spot near the back corner, a tiny maroon couch that's just opened up.

He makes a beeline for it, plunging into the soft corduroy with a contented sigh and pulling his damp mittens off with stiff fingers. He can feel them burn and prickle as they start to warm up again, his nose and cheeks doing the same. He pulls his heavy boots off, followed by his sopping wet woolen socks, sticking them deep into the bottoms of his boots so he can pull his feet up underneath him. His hat is next, a few stray unmelted snowflakes still resting in the knit as he lets it fall to the floor, running a hand through his hair in the hopes that he can make it look more artfully tousled and less hopelessly stuck to his skull.

He's nearly returned to room temperature once Zayn appears with their drinks in hand, his coat unzipped down the front, hat shoved carelessly into his left pocket. His hair is a mess, one half plastered to his head and the other sticking every which way, but its kindof endearing. Rumpled is a look that Zayn wears quite well. If he's being honest, Zayn wears every kind of look well.

"You look comfortable." Zayn observes as he sinks down beside him, their sides pressed together in the small couch.

"Its a bit of a squeeze." Niall apologizes, scooting as close to the armrest as he can. "It seemed bigger when I was the only one sitting in it."

Zayn snorts. "I wonder why." He looks down at the cups in his hands, handing one to Niall. "Tall peppermint hot chocolate, extra whip."

And it shouldn't make him quite this pleased to know that Zayn remembers his exact drink order but its warm in here and its warm in Niall's chest and he doesn't really mind.

Zayn lets out one of his rare laughs at the look on Niall's face, which he assumes has probably fallen somewhere close to awe. "What? You didn't think I remembered your drink order?"

Niall bites his lip, wrapping his hands around the warm cup and taking a tentative sip. "It's just nice."

Zayn shakes his head, like he can't believe Niall actually exists. "Of course I know your drink order you twat. Remind me again how many months I've spent crammed onto a bus with you."

Niall murmurs his reply into the top of his cup, letting the smell of peppermint wash over him. If his cheeks are a little bit pink, its definitely just windburn. "Lots of months."

Zayn smiles, taking a small sip of whatever he's drinking. "Lots and lots of months."

"Your hair looks ridiculous." Niall points out a minute later, if only to justify the fact that he hasn't exactly let his eyes stray from Zayn's face.

Zayn shrugs, setting his drink down long enough to unwind the scarf from around his neck. "So does yours."

A pout settles on Niall's face. "Not that ridiculous."

Zayn leans suddenly forward, his fingers pulling themselves through Niall's tangled mess of blonde and brown strands. He's got this adorable look of concentration on his face as he moves, eyebrows knit together, lips pressed in a thin line as he runs his hands upwards, spiking Niall's hair. "There, now you're all quiffed."

Niall smiles crookedly, setting his drink down so he can assess the damage with tentative fingers. "I feel bloody ridiculous."

The other boy just shrugs, looking self satisfied enough that Niall leans forward, digging his pale fingers into Zayn's dark hair. "Let me have a go."

It's a bit damp from outside and Niall can feel the remnants of gel still sticking to its shiny dark strands, but its still incredibly soft, sliding through his grip as he pulls it upwards in some parody of what Zayn's hair usually looks like.

"Am I pretty yet?" Zayn asks after a moment, rolling his eyes upwards like he'd be able to see Niall's handiwork if he tried hard enough.

"Not yet." Niall replies, twirling a lock around his finger

"Wrong, I'm always pretty." He replies, gleefully petulant.

A giggle escapes Niall's lips even as he bites the bottom one to keep it in, not pulling his fingers out of the other boy's hair.

Zayn notices and pretends to be affronted. "Are you laughing at me? I can't believe you!"

Niall just shrugs and removes his hands, trying and subsequently failing to stifle the next round of giggles. Zayn waits for him to regain his breath, smiling fondly at him, his hair a spiked up mess.

"M'sorry." He manages finally, though both of them know he isn't sorry in the least.

"You aren't." Zayn replies, reaching back up to tangle his hands in Niall's hair, messing it up even further.

"I'm really not." Niall agrees, a nervous warmth stirring in his chest.

Zayn just nods, that strange expression falling onto his face, the one that makes Niall squirm. It's almost fond, but there's something possessive there too, an intensity that maybe should be a little bit alarming but just pulls him in. "Would you be sorry if I kissed you?" He asks quietly, shifting his body so they're fully facing each other.

And before Niall's brain can really catch up to his body he's shrugging, a half smile settling on his face. "Not all that sorry."

Zayn nods slowly. "I can do not all that sorry." And then he's leaning forward, pulling Niall towards him and they're kissing, cold lips and warmth mouths, eyelashes still damp from the snow. Zayn kisses how being in love feels like, warm and safe and something just this side of overwhelming.

Niall leans into him because he kisses like he laughs, with passion and everything his has. He's pretty sure his lips are chapped but Zayn doesn't seem to mind. Niall thinks they probably could have continued like that for a very long time if Zayn hadn't finally remembered their surroundings, pulling back so their foreheads rest against each other, breathing each other's mint and cinnamon scented air.

"You know I still don't think you're all that sorry." Zayn says, eyes warm and hands gentle as they slide out of Niall's hair to cup his jaw. "I think I might have to kiss you again."

Niall nods, jerking his eyebrows up suggestively. "I think you really might."

And its definitely a blush that stains his cheeks pink as they stand up, hands clasped, and steal another kiss.


	5. A Proper Kiss

**A Proper Kiss - Narry**

It's really Christmas time now, that stretch of time after school gets out and before the holiday itself where everything exists in a snowy peppermint scented limbo, and it's Harry's favorite time of year. Louis decreed that they converge on Liam's house for a holiday party, and so Harry is running around the house in a pair of festive santa socks in search of his boots while Zayn judges him from the kitchen.

"Harry, if we're late Louis is probably going to kill us." Zayn chides, his hands sneaking into the saran wrapped plate of cookies that Harry is supposed to be bringing to the party.

"I am just as acquainted with his temper as you are!" Harry yells from the living room, because while Zayn and Louis have been dating for months now, Harry has has been Louis' codependent best friend for years.

"I doubt it." Zayn smirks, and Harry has the feeling he's making some ridiculous innuendo, but he's just found his shoes so he can't really bring himself to think too hard about it.

"Alright, ready to go." Harry announces, scarf wrapped up to his chin, hat shoved over his curls, thick mittens covering his hands.

Zayn looks significantly less puffy than Harry in his classic varsity jacket, cream colored turtleneck sticking out the top. He snickers when he sees Harry, passing him his cookies. "We're going to Liam's neighborhood, not the arctic circle, jesus Haz."

"Well at least I'm not a turtleneck wearing douche." Harry gripes as they head down his moderately icy drive and pile into Zayn's car.

"No need to be bitter about it, we all know Niall likes eating marshmallows." Zayn pokes Harry in the side, using his other hand to drive. "Maybe he'll eat you too."

Harry faceplants into the dashboard, his hat providing a small cushion. "We don't talk about that."

Zayn shrugs. "I talk about whatever I want. Like your crush on Niall. That you have."

"I wasn't this mean to you while you were pining over Louis." Harry whines, his cheeks heating. It's not so much that he has a crush on Niall, its just that he's always liked him and somehow over the summer his stupid peroxide blonde hair went dark at the roots, he'd gotten his braces off, shot up three inches and gone all firm limbs and dirty grins. The thing is, he's kindof delicious and Harry really wants to know what his mouth tastes like and it's not a _crush_.

"I'm not responsible for your missed opportunities."

"Zaynnn." Harry whines, sneaking a cookie into his mouth, crumbs sprinkling his lap and sticking to his mittens.

"Honey, you'll never get into him if you don't let him know you're into him." Harry lets out a wounded animal noise, throwing out one of his arms to hit Zayn in the shoulder. "Or get him into you, I don't know what you want from your men."

"Don't act so fucking superior." Harry grumbles. "Louis tells me the intimate details of his sex life whether I want to hear them or not. That rope thing? I heard about that. In detail."

Zayn goes a little pink, but retains his smugness. "I'm not going to apologize for my kinks."

"I will get out of this car." Harry mutters, but continues his pouting routine from the passenger seat as they pull into Liam's neighborhood, the houses getting bigger and beige-er, sparkling lights threading the gutters.

Liam's house is a big tan thing with a few lighted reindeer camped out in the thin layer of snow, strings of lights ringing the trees in gold. Zayn parks (badly) in front of the house, retrieving a storebought arrangement of sugar cookies from the backseat and following Harry up the lawn.

"Store bought cookies?" Harry says, raising his eyebrows in disapproval. "How sad."

Zayn hip checks him. "You know I can't bake you twat."

The door swings open before Harry can continue his ribbing, Perrie appearing to usher them inside, a red mug of tea in her hand. "Hello lovelies!"

Harry lets her bundle him into a hug. "Cute sweater." He mumbles against her shoulder, cookies a little bit crushed between them.

"Thanks gurl." She lets him go, stealing both his and Zayn's plates and leading them to the kitchen where everyone has splayed themselves across the counters and floor, coats in piles by their feet.

"Only five minutes late!" Announces Louis gleefully from the counter, reaching his arms out for Zayn and pulling him between his legs. "Haz you look like a marshmallow."

Harry just sticks his tongue out. "I know, we've already been over this."

Liam flicks the pom pom on his hat. "It's alright, you make a great marshmallow."

"Oh don't I just." Harry replies, pulling his hat and winter coat off, letting them pile on the counter.

The kitchen is cozy, but seating isn't really ideal, so they take the cookies and move the party downstairs. They end up circled on the carpet, playing a nearly violent game of BS while the Christmas radio station plays a jazzy version of Jingle Bells.

"Guys, can we please pick a new game?" Liam begs after Niall scatters his cards for the third time, Cher and Louis nearly ending up with black eyes during the struggle. "You're going to get blood on my carpet."

Cher laughs, poking Liam with her foot. "Oh have a drink Liam, lighten up!"

"You're going to destroy my house!" He replies, but he's smiling and when Dani pushes her mug of hot chocolate into his hands he doesn't protest. Perrie managed to sneak a good bit of vodka out of her parents basement and so they've been spiking their hot chocolate all night, Elf style. It burns a little bit when it goes down, but they grin and pretend they're cool enough to enjoy it.

They aren't drunk, but everything burns a little brighter and everyone laughs a little louder and Harry wants to touch Niall's ruddy cheeks and rest against his chest.

Danielle knocks her shoulder against Liam's, giving him a fond smile. "So what do you want to do then?"

"Lets play suck and blow." Louis suggests from where he's laying down on Zayn's legs.

"I don't know what that game is but I want in." Harry adds from where he's cuddled up against Cher, her delicate fingers carding through his curls. He's been friends with Louis long enough to know that playing along with his crazy plans can go wrong, but usually in hilarious ways that make for great stories afterwards.

Louis leans over to bop him on the head. "Thankyou Harry, your support is appreciated." He addresses the group in general, who are giving him wary expressions. "Oh don't look at me like that! It's PG. PG13. Whatever. I take a card, suck it so it stays on my lips, and the I pass it to the person next to me and if I drop it before they get it we have to kiss. Simple."

"I don't think I'm going to enjoy this as much as you are." Liam says, looking significantly at Zayn and then back to Louis. "I think you just want an excuse to make out with people."

Louis sticks his tongue out petulantly, but doesn't contradict him.

"Don't worry, Li, you can sit by the girls." Danielle says as she pats him on the knee, making him duck his head and flush an adorable shade of pink.

"Wouldn't want you to catch the gay." Louis quips as the circle is rearranged, Cher sits on Liam's right, Niall between Dani and Zayn, Harry staying by Perrie and Louis.

"I'm going to end up kissing Pez, aren't I?" Cher says, wigging her eyebrows at the blonde.

"Not if we play the game right." Perrie replies, but blows her a kiss anyway.

"Haz, come over here, I don't want you moving in on my boyfriend." Zayn says, patting the space between him and Niall with a knowing grin. So maybe Zayn is an okay friend when he isn't being an annoying prick.

Harry thinks about protesting but crawls over instead, settling so his and Niall's knees touch. He pretends not to notice.

Louis picks up one of the cards, sucking it against his mouth and gesturing for Zayn to take it. He leans in, and there's a moment where their faces are pressed together, before Zayn pulls back, card attached to his mouth. His eyebrows shoot up and he gives the circle a thumbs up before turning to Harry.

He leans in, the cigarettes and hair gel smell of Zayn filling his nose as he sucks the card against his mouth. There's a moment where he's positive its going to fall, but somehow he ends up with it successfully against his lips.

As he turns towards Niall's sunny grin he finds himself suddenly nervous. In some ways, he hopes he buggers up the pass, that the card drops and Harry can kiss that smile onto his own lips. At the same time he's completely forgotten how to function, how to breathe and how to kiss and he's terribly afraid that it's not going to be like all the times he imagined it, that he'll go in for too much and Niall will put back and give him that eyebrow raise he sometimes does like _what are you doing, its not like that Haz_. He wants so much for it to be _like that_.

But then Niall is leaning forward and Harry is leaning forward and he's torn between squeezing his eyes shut and just staring at Niall's big blue ones forever, but then the card is off his lips and he's managed it.

He smiles big and wide as Niall passes the card easily to Dani, who in turn gets it to Liam. It's moderately stressful, this passing around the circle, but its not actually that difficult. Harry suspects that, as Liam pointed out, the real point of the game is to 'accidentally' make out with people. Accidental makeouts happen to be Louis' area of expertise so he's really not all that shocked.

To absolutely no one's surprise, Louis drops the card just before Zayn can get it, and leans in for a kiss that makes Cher clap excitedly, saying "You two are adorable!" just as Liam lets out a sigh and says to no one in particular "See I told you this was just an excuse for them to make out. I told you."

Zayn pushes Louis back before things can get too steamy, dropping a chaste kiss onto his forehead. "You're being deliberately terrible."

Louis shrugs loftily, handing Zayn the card. "I'm nothing of the sort."

Zayn just rolls his eyes, turning to Harry. Just as he's about got the card, Louis pokes a finger into Zayn's side, making the thin rectangle fall to the ground.

"Sabotage!" Yells Niall as Zayn gives Louis a pointed look before landing a kiss on Harry's lips. It's quick, barely enough time for their mouths to mesh, and that's fairly okay with Harry. Zayn is an attractive bloke, but he spends a lot of his time kissing Louis and that's just a little too close to incest for Harry's taste.

"Thanks, Lou." Harry replies, wiping his mouth. "Appreciated that."

Louis smiles. "I'm not even sorry either."

Zayn leans, whispering something in his ear that Harry is fairly sure he doesn't want to hear. "You two are gross." He says before pressing the card to his mouth and turning to Niall.

Niall is smiling wide at him, that heart stopping grin that lights up his entire face. It's actually really not fair, his soft pinks and bright blues making Harry's insides squirm and his palms sweat. Niall is leaning in and so Harry does too, their eyes locked as their lips touch through the tiny layer of cardboard. If Harry were a sappy romantic he'd probably say that in that moment it was like they were the only ones alive, that for an instant the universe chose them for its axis.

But he's not. Honest.

And then the moment breaks, Niall pulling away with the card and passing it to Dani, leaving Harry lightheaded in a way he hopes isn't written all over his face. Luckily, attention is directed away from him as Dani lets the card fall from her lips just before she can pass it to Liam.

He looks down at the fallen card, flushing as he looks back up at her. She just smiles, resting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him in, giving him a slow kiss. It's sweet and lovely and Cher and Perrie both clap and make little happy noises when the two pull back.

The game resumes, Liam still decidedly pink, the card making its way successfully around the circle all the way back to Harry. As he turns, he really starts to regret accepting Zayn's offer to sit next to Niall, because this whole handoff thing is way more emotional trauma than he signed up for.

Niall is gorgeous as always, lips slightly parted as he waits for the pass. Harry leans in, is about to touch the card to Niall's lips when a tiny puff of air escapes and suddenly the card is fluttering to the ground. He stares down after it, eyes widening. "Oh _shit_."

Niall's laugh echoes next to him, picking up the card and waving it in front of Harry's face. "Drop something?"

Harry blushes, hiding his face behind his hands. "This is mortifying, Louis I hate this game."

Zayn hits him. "Just kiss him you dweeb."

Harry looks up at Niall, who's giving him a fond half smile. "You heard him, kiss me."

Harry nods, sticky palms resting on his thighs and he leans forward, pressing his lips tentatively to Niall's. Niall smiles against his mouth, one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other pressed to his cheek, the tips rough from years of playing guitar. They stay there like that for a moment, Harry letting his eyes flutter shut, hands coming up to rest on Niall's waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

He smells like cologne and sweets and Harry wants to know how he really kisses, but he reigns himself in, their lips molded together but nothing more. It's lovely, simple and it makes the little hopeful place in Harry's heart surge because it feels like forever and Niall still hasn't pulled away.

And then someone wolf whistles, he thinks it's Louis, and Niall is pulling back, a great big smile on his face. Harry finds himself hiding in Zayn's shoulder as the game continues, wishing he could taste more of Niall on his lips.

xx

It's ten o'clock when Liam's basement gets boring and they're drunk and stupid enough to head outside into the clear night. The half moon glows bright in the sharp darkness and their breath swirls like smoke out of their mouths, and its nice because its the holidays and they can't seem to get the smiles off of their faces. Liam's backyard is big and they've all spread out, Cher and Louis working on a rather ridiculous snowman while Zayn smokes nearby, Perrie and Dani trying to engage Liam in a snowball fight.

Harry was a former member of the snowman crew, but he didn't put his puffy jacket on, thinking his warm blue sweater and hat would be enough, only realizing later that a thin layer of wool is not enough to keep out the freezing temperatures.

Which is how he ends up creeping back into Liam's house to get his jacket, and how he runs into Niall, who's sitting on Liam's counter eating one of Zayn's cookies. They're bright green christmas trees, and they've given Niall's tongue an emerald cast, painting the inside of his mouth sugary and green.

"Hey Haz, hiding inside already?" He asks, kicking the cabinets with his socked feet, white henley pushed up to his elbows.

"You're one to talk." Harry's replies, heading over to where Niall's sitting and as he picks out a cookie. He thinks they're one of the ones Perrie brought, these peanut butter things with hershey kisses pressed into them.

"I'm only here for the food and the booze mate." Niall replies, purposefully debonair.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Don't act like you don't appreciate the company."

Niall gives him a crooked half smile. "Could be worse, could be worse." He reaches for Harry's hands, stealing them from where they're hanging at his sides. "You're freezing."

Harry shrugs, wishing he had more feeling in his fingers as Niall warms them with his own hands. "A little."

"Can I ask ya somethin?" He asks, irish accent getting more pronounced as he speaks, looking down at Harry with a curious look on his face.

Harry nods, not daring to hope. "Yeah, anything."

He seems to deliberate over the words for long moment, a serious tilt to his brow. "You didn't drop the card on purpose, did you?"

Harry shakes his head and it's not technically a lie. "No, not on purpose."

Niall nods, dropping his hands and Harry can feel the opportunity slipping through his fingers. "Well I mean, I wasn't sorry I dropped it." He says softly.

"Neither was I." Niall replies, a cheeky gleam in his eyes. "Wasn't a proper kiss though."

"What's a proper kiss?" Harry asks, leaning so he's only an inch or two below Niall, his legs open so Harry can rest between them, hips against the counter.

"Do you want the explanation or the demonstration?" Niall asks, resting his arms on Harry's shoulders, fingers twirling the hair behind his head.

"Do you even half to ask?" Harry asks against Niall's lips, excitement pulling in his chest, pushing him closer to Niall, hands resting on the crease where his thighs meet his waist.

"No, not really." Niall smiles, letting their lips brush, then crush together. It's better than Harry imagined, a tentative push and pull as they work out where their mouths go. Niall is enthusiastic, fingers that tug at Harry's curls, holding onto them like they're a lifeline, and he is more than pleased to return his energy, slipping his hands underneath Niall's shirt and sliding fingers over soft skin.

Niall urges Harry's mouth open, letting Harry pull him off the counter and press him against the cabinets, his hands sliding into Harry's back pockets. He's trying to figure out how to get his tongue properly into Niall's mouth when the blonde boy pulls back, resting his forehead against Harrys. "Your lips are all cold."

"I was trying to fix that problem." Harry replies, going back in for a peck. "Yours were warm."

Niall laughs, a sound that's even better when it ends up in Harry's mouth. "So where does this leave us?"

"It could leave us kissing." Harry replies with a tiny sullen tilt to his expression because feelings are all well and good but he can totally talk about feelings after he's snogged Niall senseless.

Niall touches their noses together, eyes sparkling. "But we can about this later, right? This _us_ thing?" He pauses. "Is there an us thing?"

Harry smiles, reaching up to brush Niall's cheek with his fingers. "Of course there's an us thing. Why else would I be kissing you?"

Niall shrugs. "Because I'm fantastically good looking?"

Harry smiles, brushing his lips against Niall's and pushing back him into the cabinet. "Well that was always part of it."

Niall just smiles, pulling Harry's mouth back to his, and its either the heat of the kitchen or Niall's hands, but he's ended up all warm inside.

He thinks it might be Niall.


	6. Merry Christmas, Darling

**Merry Christmas, Darling - Larry**

Harry is curled up in the corner of his and Louis plush leather couch, watching the flickering lights that swath their Christmas tree. It's a bit heavy on garland on the left and a little lopsided as well, but Harry likes it because he remembers cutting it down and driving it all the way back to their flat, remembers Louis climbing on a chair to get the (also lopsided) angel on the top of the tree, remembers decorating while they sang Christmas carols at each other.

The whole house has been Christma-fied, with jars full of cookies Louis made on spectacularly productive afternoon, garlands strung up on the walls, two stockings hung over their fake fireplace, and a few sprigs of mistletoe gleefully pegged to the doorways. They've been having a bit of fun with those.

Louis is off doing some bit of publicity with Eleanor today, who Harry sometimes can tolerate but not so much tonight. It's just that Louis is his boyfriend and he doesn't really like sharing his things, even though he knows it has to be this way. Louis's been completely remorseful about it too, apologizing so much Harry thinks he's going to wear the word out, even after Harry told him about a million times that it's really truly okay.

It some ways, it is. He still gets Louis on Christmas morning before they drive down to Doncaster to meet both of their parents for presents, but he'd kindof wanted Christmas eve too. He's warm curled up in his oversized red sweater, but he'd be warmer with Louis curled next to him. Harry pulls his hands out of the sleeves to grab his festive reindeer mug, taking a long sip of his tea, checking his phone for the third time.

They've been texting on and off all day, Louis sending him first _almost there, heterosexuality activate! _followed by _I wish I was holding your hand_ and _staring at my quotes tattoo and thinking of the words I want to put between them_. At which point Harry sends back _I love you_ and _remember to smile_.

Twenty minutes later he gets a shot of Louis and Eleanor at the cute breakfast place they're being photographed at this morning with the caption _do I look like I'm in love? Because I am._

Shortly after he gets a somewhat cheeky _with you xx ;))_ that makes him smile even though he still feels a tiny bit jealous. A few more pictures have shown up on twitter since, Eleanor going through racks of clothing while Louis looks on. Harry tries not to be pleased when he sees the annoyed set to his jaw, but ends up being more sad than anything when he sees how tired he looks.

He wonders what they're doing now, if they've gone out to dinner or are heading into some hotel for the night. He kindof hopes it's the second one, because at least that way he can facetime with Louis, show him how lovely the living room looks with the tree all lit up and the fireplace blazing, messily wrapped presents hiding under the tree. He remembers that too, Louis coming out of their bedroom with his arms full of heavily taped and wrinkled packages to place next to Harry's neatly wrapped gifts. _These have character_, he'd said, _they're special_. Harry had laughed and seen no reason to contradict him.

Harry sets his tea on the floor and pulls his blanket completely over him, creating an impenetrable Harry Styles cocoon. He scrolls around on his iphone, smiling at the _merry christmas xx :D_ text from Zayn and the _mery xmass xx_ from Liam. Niall is no doubt getting fabulously egg-nogged with his ridiculous family, so he doesn't really expect anything more than a obligatory _HAPPY CHRISTMAS_ around 3pm tomorrow.

Liam isn't going home for Christmas this year, but Zayn brought his sisters up, and judging by the picture Liam tweeted, the Malik-Liam clan are currently making cookies, which is so domestic it's kindof sickening.

Harry lets out a tiny little sigh, scrolling down Louis' profile. There's nothing since the picture he sent out earlier, but there will be to be other shots soon. They like to get the most they can out of every outing. He tucks his chin into his sweater, making a sad little noise.

It's just so lonely in the quiet without Louis' breathing beside him, just a little too cold. It occurs to him that he doesn't even know what time Louis is supposed to come home, which is followed by the realization that he's probably not going to leave this couch until he comes slipping through the door.

His phone vibrates in his hand, a message from Louis lighting up the screen. _Missing me?_

Harry smiles, even though the answer is most definitely yes and it makes him feel less happy and more like there's a sad twisty place in his chest he can't rid of.

_I wish you were here. _He sends, followed by _I was making tea earlier and I almost poured two cups._

_You should have poured two, _he gets a few seconds later.

_?_

The doorbell rings, sending an excited jolt through his sleepy frame. He holds his cup in one hand, sticking his phone in his pocket so he can more effectively use his blanket as a cape. He tries not to hope as he patters across the hardwood in sock feet. There's a good chance it's just Zayn and crew, surprising him with cookies, or even carolers. Which is a little far fetched if he thinks about it, but he doesn't want to set himself up for disappointment. Louis may be magic and perfect and everything Harry means when they get asked what they look for in a girl, but he's not a miracle worker.

He gets the door open with a blanketed hand, pulling it wide to reveal what appears to be an empty hallway. He makes another sad little sound, poking his head out a little farther. "Louis?" It's quiet, and a little hopeful.

Directly to his right, back pressed against the wall to hide himself, is Louis, a santa hat perched on his head, a lopsided smile on his face as he swings into view. "Merry Christmas, Darling."

Harry lets his blanket slip a little, reaching out and pulling Louis to his chest, tea sloshing in the cup. It's not really a hug, just their bodies pressed together, Louis still a little cold from the outside air, Harry toasty and soft. "But I thought you were busy." He prompts against Louis' collar.

Louis shakes his head, pushing Harry inside and pulling their door closed, a gleeful smile on his face. He is truly Christmas come early. "I got them to reconsider for just morning plans as long as it was convincing. I didn't want to tell you in case it fell through." He winks, taking Harry's tea from his hands with a grin as they head into the kitchen. "Besides, I like surprises."

"I like you."

Louis smiles fondly over at him, his eyes sparkling. "I love you."

Harry nods, shuffling back over into Louis' space. "That too."

Louis strokes his cheek with chilly fingers, letting Harry glow his warm onto them. He pulls Harry to him, letting the younger boy nestle into his chest, a contented sigh falling from his lips as Louis wraps his arms around his waist. "Long day for you too?"

Harry nods. "Missing you is exhausting."

Louis laughs, sweet and low. "You're so overdramatic."

Harry ignores him, letting his eyes flutter shut. "You're spending every Christmas with me from now on, okay?"

Louis presses a kiss to his temple. "Every Christmas, New Year, and all the other days too."

Harry nods against Louis' chest, feeling like his heart is going to burst if he feels any more, like he couldn't possibly be any more in love. He's though that before too, but somehow he always proves himself wrong. "Every single other day."

Louis nods, warming his fingers against Harry's waist, the touch making him shiver. "Merry Christmas, Haz."

"Merry Christmas, Lou."


	7. I Want You To Know

**I Want You To Know - Larry**

Harry gets the first gift on December 15th.

He's tired and when it falls out of his locker and nearly hits him in the face, he almost jumps out of his skin. He's been at school since 6:30 working on his newest art project, a ceramic bowl that has plans to become navy but is currently a pale blue, and he's just gotten his locker open when the holiday projectile startles him unkindly from his near slumber.

It's just a small bag, green and red striped with a cheery _Merry Christmas!_ printed across the front. He tilts it, trying to find some kind of tag but coming up with nothing.

"You've got clay in your hair, Haz." Zayn says from where he's leaned against the locker next to theirs, though he's not really one to talk, the cuffs of his blue flannel caked with paint. "And on your elbow."

"Fuck off, art freak." Harry grumbles, a morning person as always, peering into the tissue paper.

"What's that?" Zayn presses, leaning too far into Harry's space. He smells like cigarettes, paint, and hair gel and Harry loves him but he's also annoying as shit.

"Well fuck if I know, Zayn, it almost hit me in the fucking face." Harry replies scathingly, finding a note written on a yellowing index card and pulling it out.

Zayn makes an offended noise. "Think you could fit another fuck in that sentence?"

"If I tried really fucking hard." Harry replies, looking down to read the thing. Whoever wrote it has neat, boyish handwriting, letters flowing together and looping up at neat points, and Harry doesn't recognize it. The note itself is short, just two lines.

_Hi Harry, _

_Fancy a kiss or two?_

His eyebrows disappear into his curls as he reaches into the bag, pulling out five hershey's kisses. Zayn rests his chin on his shoulder, letting out an amused hoot when he sees the contents of the bag.

"You've got yourself a secret admirer." Zayn teases, looking far too pleased about the whole thing. "You got a secret admirer and they want to kisssss youuu!"

Harry scowls, pushing the kisses into Zayn's hands. (He knows there's still one in the bag. He'll eat it during math later and feel only a little bit badly. He keeps the note too, shoving it carelessly - but not too carelessly - into his English folder as soon as he gets to class. He makes sure no one sees.) "It's probably just Liam or someone messing around." Liam is the jock of their group, the popular, sweet football player Zayn somehow got to be his boyfriend, and Harry doesn't really think this is Liam's doing, but it's easier than admitting he has an admirer. Because that is just a set up for disappointment.

Zayn makes a face. "Are you saying that my boyfriend is sending you kisses?" He laughs, eyes squeezing shut as he tips his head back. "That's rich Harry. Someone _likes_ you."

Harry scowls, an expression that's starting to feel at home on his face. "I'm just saying that its probably someone having a laugh." He shoves a finger at Zayn. "Maybe its you!"

Zayn holds his hands up in innocence. "I don't love you enough to pull that kind of shit, mate."

Harry rolls his eyes, slamming his locker shut and trying not to think too hard about this. It's just a few pieces of chocolate and a stupid little note.

He sighs as he follows Zayn down the hallway, his stupid quiff bopping every time he moves. He couldn't have a secret admirer because no one notices him. He's not admirable, he's Harry.

He tries not to feel the smallest bit giddy anyway.

xx

The second gift comes to him on December 18th, one of the worst days he's had in a long time.

His mum and sister fought the whole night before. (He doesn't even remember how it started, but somehow it ended up being about how Gemma doesn't have a plan and _you can't get a scholarship with a B average young lady_, and Harry just hid his pillow and tried to pretend that pottery was a legitimate career option.) Not to mention that D and F progress reports have come in and he has a D in Chemistry which is completely not his fault. Well maybe it is. It isn't like he can help being completely shit at whatever the hell balancing equations is.

Harry has been in the art program long enough that he has an art station in the corner of the arm room. It's right next to Zayn's and his ever growing collection of paintings, colorful canvasses that are always encroaching on his space, the tiny alcove where he keeps the pottery wheel he named Sam and decided is his. There are a few charcoal drawings too, one of Zayn that he's particularly proud of, but mostly its just mugs and vases and delicately glazed bowls piled on the floor and on the shelf he managed to construct and is probably unstable.

In the center of his pottery wheel is a large glass coke bottle, filled halfway up with water, a wire flower stuck inside. It's crude, but sweet somehow, a green stem and pale blue petals curved around a shiny yellow bead. The note is resting up against it, that same loopy handwriting he still doesn't recognize.

_Hi Harry,_

_So it turns out no actual flowers grow in December. Who knew?_

_Also, you should smile more, it makes your face go all cute._

He looks around, tucking the note quickly into his pocket and putting a dour expression on his face for good measure. He doesn't know who has decided to have him on, but he's not going to fall for their ridiculousness and their supposed love of his smile.

If he's being honest, if the notes didn't have his name on them he'd be sure they were for someone else. It's not like he's being down on himself, that isn't the problem, but this sort of thing just doesn't happen to him.

He sighs, pouring the water in the sink and throwing the bottle into the recycling bin.

If he carefully takes the flower out and places it at the very back of his shelf, well that's his business.

xx

Perrie introduces Louis to Harry on December 19th, the day after the flower incident. He's new this year from Doncaster (from one shitty british town to another, he says with a wry grin) and he's on the football team with Liam and Stan, taking over as running back after Aiden was taken out for knee surgery.

Perrie, show choir girl extraordinaire, has snuck Zayn, Liam, and Harry into the choir dressing room for lunch, sparing them the overall grossness of the cafeteria. The space is fairly cozy, glittery costumes hanging from racks and abandoned cans of hairspray on the counter by the mirror, and it's a definite upgrade from the lunch room.

"So you do pottery?" Asks Louis, who is somehow friends with all of Harry's friends but not Harry himself, leaning across the circle to talk to him, a half eaten apple hanging from his fingers. As it turns out, Louis can not only play sports, but sing and dance as well, which makes Harry hate him a little bit. Successful functioning humans make him annoyed, it's nothing personal.

"I do." Harry replies, spooning lukewarm tomato soup out of his thermos. The thing is, Louis looks genuinely interested, his big blue eyes have gone all wide and sparkly and Harry almost feels bad for giving him the cold shoulder. "It's not like, a thing. I just enjoy it."

Zayn gives him a look, then leans conspiratorially towards Louis. "It's totally a thing. He's obsessed."

Harry kicks him in the thigh with one of his black vans. "I'm not obsessed."

Zayn gives him an incredulous look. "Mate you literally talked to me about glazes for an hour. You're obsessed."

Louis somehow looks even more interested than before. "That's really cool! So you make like, big pots and stuff?"

Harry shrugs, trying not to get all squirmy under Louis' scrutiny. His enthusiasm with life is a bit much for Harry to take in, he's used to Zayn, who is enthusiastic about art and Liam, but not really much else. "Yeah, a few. I made my mum a big green one for her birthday last year." He sets down his thermos, miming a size. "Like, I carved a couple of leaves around the rim and painted a few mushrooms at the bottom. It was pretty difficult actually. I do the painting thing usually, but I'm still a bit shit at carving, and the clay really wanted to collapse? But it turned out really cool. I really like incorporating flora and fauna into pottery, I had a whole series of like, white leaf bowls I did last year where I painted bright colored trees onto the leaves. Called it the Neon Trees, you know, like the band?"

At which point he realizes that most of the people in the circle have never seen him string together a sentence too far over 150 characters. Liam is looking at him with this funny look on his face that's a little bit confused and a little bit pleased, Perrie looks like a two year old confronted with a puppy, and Harry is pretty sure Zayn is about to piss himself.

But he can't seem to make himself look away from Louis, who is grinning at him from underneath his fringe like he's just cured cancer or something, his stupidly blue eyes all lit up. It's just, he's not used to people directing that sort of mind numbing excitement at him. He's had it around him, like how Zayn looks when Liam makes a particularly good throw or when Perrie is watching Doctor Who, but its not something people usually have on their face when they look at _him_.

"Do you still have them?" Louis asks, his voice so sincere and earnest that Harry doesn't really know how to respond. "I really want to see."

He ducks his head back into his collar, hiding behind his tomato soup as Perrie giggles at him. "Yeah, I mean, sure. Sometime." He tries to resume his usual role as quiet, broody artist type, fully relieved when Liam redirects their conversations to what exactly they're planning to do this weekend.

He tries not to notice the way Louis' gaze keeps flickering back to him.

Tries not to think about his blue eyes.

Tries not to think about something other than the words "I really want to see."

No one really ever has before.

xx

"Oh Haz, you are so fucked." Zayn says as they enter Economics the next day. "I don't think I've seen you talk that much to anyone since me."

Harry gives him a dark look, dropping his backpack on the floor and flopping into his chair. "It has officially been twenty-four hours, haven't you found something else to freak out about yet?"

"Nope." Zayn replies gleefully, sliding into the desk next to him and pulling out his sketchpad. Zayn likes to optimize his drawing during class time by not even attempting to pay attention. Harry usually at least likes to at least pretend he might actually take notes before giving up and dozing off, but at least Zayn's being honest about the whole thing. "You like him! That's great! He's nice and sweet and he wants to listen to you talk about pottery, what's the problem here?"

"Don't like him." Harry mutters underneath his breath as he reaches into his bag, pulling out his econ folder and slapping it open on his desk before diving back in for his notebook.

Zayn lets out a noise that makes Harry extremely nervous. "WHAT IS THAT, HAZZA?"

"What is what." Harry replies tiredly, digging around in the vain hope that maybe there's one pencil somewhere in the bottom of his backpack.

"This lovely drawing!" Before Harry can wonder A. why one of his sketches is in his economics folder and B. why Zayn is so excited about this, the dark haired boy is diving across his desk and pulling the drawing out. "HARRY. YOUR SECRET ADMIRER."

Oh brilliant. "Give me the drawing, Zayn." Harry replies, giving Zayn his best beseeching look.

"_So I tried to draw you. I didn't try very hard, but that has less to do with my affections for you and more to do with how truly terrible I am at drawing. Unfortunately you seem to be the artist in this relationship. Also, I like how your voice sounds_." Zayn reads, practically bouncing out of his seat, sneaking looks over at Harry to see just how pink his cheeks have gotten, which is, needless to say, very pink. "Oh its so romantic!"

"Zayn you are a thirteen year old girl." Harry replies into his hands. "Give me the drawing."

"Why? If you don't care so much maybe I'll just keep it." Zayn taunts, holding it out of his reach, seeming to enjoy Harry's misery far too much. The truth is, Zayn is an overly perceptive asshole, and Harry hates him a lot sometimes.

"I just want to see it." Harry replies, using one hand to hide behind sticking the other one out.

Zayn seems to take pity on him, placing the paper back on his desk with evident amusement. Harry peers at it, unable to keep a smile off his face when he finds a stick figure of himself smiling back up at him. He's got lime eyes and a huge bundle of brown scribbles that he thinks are supposed to be his curls. It's really not all that inaccurate, his mop of hair is getting a little bit ridiculous.

Underneath is the bit Zayn read, familiar smooth handwriting in red colored pencil. There are two xx's at the end, and that makes Harry's stomach twist a little bit. It only takes a quick glance at Zayn to know that he noticed them too, and was just waiting for Harry to.

"I don't like how funny you're finding this." Harry gripes.

Zayn shrugs innocently, making kissy faces at Harry until he flips him the bird. "You're funny when you're flustered. Nobody ever gets under your skin, this is like a once a year opportunity."

"God I hate you." He replies, because he's pretty sure than any denials would just end with him getting laughed at.

If Harry sticks the drawing back into his economics folder behind a packet on the business cycle, Zayn pretends not to notice.

xx

"HARRY, HARRY!" He stops, vaguely aware that his name is being called as he heads toward the art room to finish the pendant he's making Gemma for Christmas. He's about to continue on and hope that a different Harry is being summoned when Louis nearly barrels into him, looking far to excited for someone who's just finished a long school day. "Hi Harry."

He tries not to look too much like a deer in headlights as Louis comes to a complete halt in front of him. "Hi?"

Louis grins. "Where are you going?"

Harry snorts out a laugh before he can wonder if that's a socially acceptable response. "Did you seriously just sprint down the hallway just to ask where I was going?"

"Yeah?" Louis replies, suddenly a little sheepish. "I mean I was just wondering. I have rehearsal at 5, but I don't really want to go home first so..."

Harry lets out a tiny little sigh, feeling more amused about the whole situation than anything. "I'm going to the art room. You can come if you'd like."

Louis' face, which had fallen the smallest bit, picks right back up as he nods excitedly. "That sounds fun!" He sobers up, almost visibly reining his enthusiasm back in. "I'll be quiet, I promise."

Harry shrugs, starting towards the art room, this time with Louis next to him. "I don't mind a little background noise. You can talk at me all you'd like."

That seems to please him, adding a little skip in his step as they turn down the stairs and through the mural covered doors. "I've only been in here like, twice." Louis says, looking around at the bright room. The snow glitters and sends sunlight through the picture windows, casting the long paint splattered tables, easels, and personal stations in bright light. There are a few grimy art kids and pretty hipsters fluttering around the room, a few of which give Harry friendly nods as he sets his backpack down and pushes up his sleeves.

"I've only been in here about nine million times." Harry replies, smiling when Louis lets out a giggle even though he's really not being all that funny.

"You seem comfortable here." Louis observes, sitting on the messy concrete floor. "I mean, not that you aren't comfortable other places just..."

Harry nods, pulling the pendant out and heading over to the paints, picking cobalt and scarlet tubes from the stash. "I know. It's nice in here. Peaceful."

Louis nods, sliding onto the stool next to Harry as he sets up, squeezing paint onto a paper plate and mixing it about with a delicate brush. "I know what you mean. Show choir people never shut up. Everything is either the best thing that's ever happened to them or a complete disaster. And it always involves screaming."

Harry cracks a smile, setting in on a base coat of dark blue. "Sounds like Zayn."

"He's rather excitable." Louis concedes, setting his elbows on the table and looking up at Harry. "You furrow your brow when you paint."

"You like to make observations about me and then say them out loud." Harry replies, holding the pendant up to the light.

"You're fun to watch."

"Am I though?" Harry asks, pausing to raise his eyebrows at Louis, the sunlight resting on his chestnut hair and lighting him up. He looks like summer dappled water in the middle of Harry's winter and he wants to sketch him in charcoal even though he's never had an eye for detail like Zayn does. He wishes he could sculpt him, shove a lump of clay on the wheel and somehow end up with a cup the blue of his eyes and a handle the quirk of his lips.

Louis nods. "Especially when you smile."

He fights a grin and hopes his mop of hair hides his blush, looking back down at his project and trying not to think too hard about the implications of that statement.

His mysterious gift giver is not Louis. Louis is frenetic and blue and Harry is nothing of the sort.

But maybe Harry wishes he was.

xx

The tiny, gift wrapped box is sitting on his doorstep when he gets home from Zayn's on Friday night. He reaches down for it, turning it over to find his name printed on the bottom in the now familiar loose handwriting, two xs signed off underneath.

He shakes it, hearing something small rattle around inside, and sticks it in his pocket as he heads through the door, calling out a quick greeting to his mom as he skips up the stairs to his room.

He sits down on his quilt, kicking his shoes across his carpet and starting in on the package, carefully peeling back the wrapping to reveal a plain box. Inside is a nondescript flashdrive and a handwritten note. He examines the flashdrive as he waits for his laptop to boot up, setting the note on his desk to save a little longer.

He isn't willing to admit it out loud yet, but there's something lovely about the gifts and the notes and having someone who cares enough to do something like that for him. He wonders who they could be, tries not to think about cheekbones and sweet smiles because he's not that much of a dreamer, really.

He jams the flashdrive into one of the ports as soon as his brick of a laptop whirrs itself awake, clicking on it to find nothing more than a single mp3 file, titled, simply enough, _You_. He peers at for a moment, as if maybe something more explanatory will pop up, before giving it a swift double click, smiling to himself as the slow strum of guitar and soft male vocals drip through his speakers.

He picks up the note, unfolding it with careful fingers as the verse continues, slowly growing in the dim light of his room.

_Hi Harry._

_Hope this isn't too weird, but I guess I wanted to send you a song? And I thought this one was pretty and you're pretty so I hope you can see where I made this connection. I think this might be weird. Hopefully you don't think I'm weird now. I don't think you're weird. I think you're completely lovely._

_Merry Christmas xx_

Harry lets his fingers trace over the tiny indents in the paper where the pen dotted the is and the two sharp xs he's starting to like more than he should.

"I don't think you're weird either." He whispers to his empty room, a little pleased tilt to his lips.

He tucks the note in the top drawer of his desk and gets ready for bed, school and life and having to function like a normal human making his bones ache with tiredness. He switches off his lights and turns the screen on his laptop all the way down, and maybe he listens to the song until he goes to sleep.

It doesn't mean anything.

_I want you to know you're the first thought, I want you to know the grace you're made of, I want you to feel that you're mine dear._

_I want you to know._

xx

When Harry enters the art room before school starts that monday, Louis is sitting on the floor by his station, tracing his fingers over the lines of one of Harry's favorite mugs, the one he painted with a tiny little red riding hood, the wolf slinking around the other side of the cup, each of them leaving tiny gray footfalls on the ceramic. He looks almost forlorn and Harry wants to protect him somehow, put the smile back on his face or least make sure whatever made it slip away can never touch Louis again.

He's not wearing his usual ensemble of rolled up jeans and fitted top, just a pair of baggy sweatpants and loose tee shirt with some band Harry hasn't heard of pasted across the front.

"Not that I mind," Harry begins quietly, setting his backpack down with a thump that jolts Louis out of whatever stupor he's fallen into. "But is there any reason you're hiding in my corner?"

Louis looks up like he's surprised to him, gingerly setting the cup down with a quick clatter of pottery against concrete. "You come here in the mornings?"

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Yes. I come here a lot."

"Oh." Louis nods. "I can see that."

"I thought you hung out in the choir hallway?" Harry asks, sliding onto his stool so he's looking down at Louis, who still looks a bit like a lost puppy.

"I wasn't in the mood this morning." Louis replies, a small smile curling across his features. "They're sweet, but they never shut up."

Harry laughs. "You picked a really strange activity if you wanted avoid noise."

Louis shrugs. "I like noise. Just not all the time."

Harry smiles down at Louis, liking the way he's just a little bit difficult sometimes, how sometimes he hates everyone just as much Harry does. How he hides it just a little better. He wants to touch him, to reach down and feel the planes of his cheeks and push his tongue past his smile. He could do it, he knows, there's nothing stopping him from sliding off his chair and pushing Louis onto the ground and kissing him until the bell rings.

Except maybe that he can't exactly go around kissing any boy he pleases. Its a little bit too early in the morning for rejection.

"Well I'll promise to be quiet then." Harry says, rummaging in his backpack for his English book, cracking it open and starting in on the chapter he was supposed to read last night.

"I don't mind when you talk." Louis says, stretching his arms high over his head with a yawn. He seems a little bit less dispirited than before, eyes a little brighter, a soft smile curling across his face. "Just other people."

Harry tries to ignore the fluttery feeling in his stomach. "I'll keep that in mind."

xx

He's sitting next to Louis during lunch when he notices. It's becoming a habit, sitting in the warm light of the dressing room while they eat: him, Liam, Zayn, Perrie, Louis, and Niall. Louis is scribbling madly away at an essay, frown lines appearing on his forehead as he concentrates.

It's not that Harry really thinks he's his mysterious gift giver, but he can't help peeking over the top of his folder, because there's always that part of him that wonders, that hopes. His breath catches in his throat as he sees the familiar sloping hand, looping letters that slide across the paper.

"Oh." He says quietly, a chip halfway to his mouth.

"Yes?" Louis asks, tipping his folder to his chest so his essay is concealed, but Harry just stares, feeling awestruck and dumbstruck and starstruck all at once. There's an almost nervous glint to his eye, like he knows what's on Harry's mind and doesn't quite know if he wants him to bring it up or not.

He works his face into a smile, shaking his curls out. "Nothing. Just spacing out."

"Gotcha." Louis replies, but Harry's pretty sure he knows he's been staring.

Harry wants to tell him, let him know the game is up, but he words are all stuck in his throat and he can feel the moment slipping out of his grasp. Part of him can't really believe it. He barely knows Louis, why would Louis pay attention to him?

Louis has always been on his periphery, that bright eyed, brown haired boy who was friends with some of his friends, but he never really paid attention to him. It's a survival strategy really. Louis is too fun for Harry, too pretty and hilarious and outgoing and so it's really better to just talk to Zayn and Liam and Perrie and no one else.

But maybe Louis notices him. Maybe Louis sees him and thinks he's good enough, and that makes his whole body feel a little bit light because that means Louis thinks his face goes cute when he smiles and that's he's completely lovely.

"Hey Louis?" He says after a while, tapping his finger against Louis' knee.

Louis looks up again. "Yeah?"

"I like your handwriting."

Louis raising his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip as he fights a grin. "What an interesting compliment, Harry."

Harry just smiles, an idea forming in his brain. "Isn't it?"

xx

He ends up on Louis' doorstep three days before Christmas, jumpy and nervous and a little bit chilly. Louis' house is a typical cute suburban home, with tiny porch and red brickwork, one big window in front that lets him peek into the living room where a christmas tree lights up the space.

His hand hovers over the doorbell for a moment, but he pulls back before he can ring it, chickening out for the third time. Harry is sure Louis' father is a perfectly nice man, but the possibility of having to talk to him is really one he'd like to avoid it at all costs. He pulls his flip phone out of his pocket instead, thankful that he scrounged Louis' number off Perrie as he sends off a quick text.

Harry 7:43

- Come outside xx

As he waits for a reply, blowing warm air onto his half numb fingers, it starts to spit snow, the tiny flakes collecting on the blacktop and resting on Harry's collar. He's about to turn tail and pretend he was never here in the first place when he gets a text back.

Louis 7:46

Are you going to stand out there all night?

Harry takes a step back, looking up at the upstairs windows. Two of them have their curtains drawn closed, but the one on the left has a face pressed to the glass.

Harry 7:46

I was kindof hoping you'd let me in.

The face disappears, and Harry can hear the patter of feet on stairs before the door comes open. Louis is wearing a woolen sweater and sweat pants that barely come to his ankles and he looks adorable in the half light of the entryway, a warm smile on his face. "I wasn't expecting you." He says, pulling back and gesturing for Harry to come in.

Harry looks over at him in alarm, wondering if maybe this had been the wrong decision. "You don't mind do you?"

Louis shrugs. "Not at all, though I would have at least put some proper pants on if I'd had any warning."

Harry shrugs. "You look cozy."

"You look cold." Louis replies, leaning up against the wall, surveying Harry with an amused grin. "What's in the bag?"

Harry looks down at the bag in his hand, having briefly forgotten it. "Oh. Oh its a present. A present for you."

Louis smiles brightly. "Really?"

"Yeah." He hands it over, letting Louis peer inside. "You can open it now if you'd like."

Louis nods, digging into the tissue paper and pulling out a sturdy white mug, a pudgy green eyed raccoon eating a cupcake by the handle while a sleek blue eyed fox slinks towards him. Louis' face lights up as he examines the cup in his hands, looking positively delighted by the whole thing.

It's only when he turns it over that his face softens, a surprised little gasp escaping his lips. On the bottom, painted in curly black script are a few words.

_I want you to know, you're the first thought. xx_

"You're a very cute raccoon." He says finally, sounding just a little bit off balance. Harry feels a little off balance too. "I- Did you seriously make this?"

Harry nods, shuffling his feet as he looks down at the tile. "Yeah, I already had the mug, I mean I just painted it, it's nothing."

"It's not nothing at all." He can hear the clink of ceramic as Louis sets the cup down and then suddenly Louis is in his space, hands hovering next to his cheeks so they're eye to eye. Louis is just a little bit shorter than him, he'd only have to duck down a little bit and they'd be kissing.

"Oh."

"I want you to know the grace you're made of." Louis begins quietly, tilting his head a tiny bit to the side. "I want you to feel that you're mine dear."

Harry smiles, because he knows how this song goes. And it's so cliche but its Christmastime and if that's the wrong time for cheesy cliches he doesn't know what the right time is. "I want you to know."

Louis grins, all white teeth and pink mouth and then Harry closes the gap between them, kissing the smile off of his lips. He's gorgeous and Harry is almost afraid to touch him, completely in awe of Louis as his hands as crawl up into his hair, his lips as they curl against his.

Louis pushes him back against the wall, taking as much as Harry will give him. He slips his hands onto Louis' waist, creeping under the soft wool of his sweater to touch the soft skin of his lower back like he isn't sure he's allowed.

Finally Louis pulls back. "This is okay right, you're okay with this?"

"So okay with it." Louis barely lets him get the words out before they're kissing again, figuring out how they fit together

Louis finally comes up for air, and Harry likes the way his breath is just a little bit quick. "My mum is going to be home in like, ten minutes."

"Too bad." Harry replies, burying his head in Louis' shoulder.

"But I mean, ten minutes is a good amount of time." Louis says slowly, tugging a bit on Harry's curls, a sly smile on his face.

Harry smiles. "You could do quite a bit in ten minutes."

Louis nods. "Good thing too, because I was really not done kissing you."

If Harry's being honest, he's not sure he's ever going to be done kissing Louis.

xx

**Well I hope you guys enjoyed those, comments and opinions are always appreciated. You can find me more reliably on tumblr at infinitylourry or in the mattiewrites tag. Hope you're all having a Merry christmas and a happy holigays. (:**


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